The Once and Future King
by tinydisk
Summary: Arthur is becoming a man, and soon to be king... but once he was a boy.
1. In the beginning

**Author's Note:**

**This is my first attempt at a Merlin fic: I hope you like it! I'd love to hear any comments you might like to offer. **

**All characters belong to the BBC. No copyright infringement intended. **

**THE ONCE AND FUTURE KING **

Arthur yelled as he parried another blow.

"Take that! And that! And… _that_!"

But his opponent stood firm, seemingly undaunted by his ferocious blows. He steadied his breath, wrapped his small fingers tightly about hilt of his sword firmly, and ran at his enemy, crying his Battle Cry.

"Arthur!" A faint voice came from behind.

He parried left, ducked and leapt over the returning strike.

"Arthur!" The voice was stronger now, calling for him.

He swung his sword, delivering a lethal blow.

"There you are, Sire!" The young prince turned to see his servant approach, his feet lost in the autumn leaves covering the ground.

Arthur turned back to his opponent, who'd taken advantage of his momentary lapse in concentration and disappeared.

"He's gone!"

"Who's gone?" Arthur's servant stood alongside his prince, looking all around.

"The knight! I was fighting him – and winning – but he's gone!"

"Really?" The servant smiled kindly down upon the young prince.

"Yeah. But he must have been a wizard, too" Arthur added after a moment's thought; "because he's turned into a tree!"

Gripping his sword tightly once more, Arthur eyed the tree suspiciously, raising his weapon to eye level. He stepped defensively in front of his servant.

"Don't take your eyes off it, Ganred; they're tricky, these sorcerers."

Ganred obediently stepped back, his eyes trained on the tree's 'tricky' limbs. When the tree showed no obvious hostile intent, despite Arthur circling it menacingly, he suggested that perhaps his enemy had, in fact, been thwarted.

"Never underestimate magic!" came the curt reply, followed by a hollow thud as the royal foot slipped and Arthur came down hard upon his royal bottom.

Trying not to laugh, Ganred reached out a hand and helped Arthur to his feet.

"I fear, Milord, that it is time for us to retreat to the safety of Camelot; your father has called for you."

"But I'm practising to protect the Kingdom!" came the indignant reply, with just a hint of a whine.

"Be that as it may, your father has requested your presence as soon as possible."

So it was that Ganred and Arthur made their way back to Camelot, the young prince dragging his feet the entire way. He would not part with his sword, however, and plunging it proudly into his belt, he strode purposefully into the Council Chamber.

"Here I am, father!"

"Arthur, take that stick out of your belt immediately and sit down."

Arthur frowned and pulling his fine weapon from his side, handed it to Ganred, in whose hands he knew it would be well looked after. Sitting beside his father's throne he tried his best to look put out, but failing miserably as he took in the scene before him.

The hall was mostly empty; Gaius stood to one side as always, watching everything so carefully; three other representatives of the Council, and two guards.

But there was one more. A young girl in a deep green cloak and striking eyes to match stood before the throne. She held her head proudly, though her eyes betrayed sadness within. Her coal-black hair was flung over her shoulder, a gold braid winding in and out of her tresses. She gazed straight ahead, seeing nothing, and Arthur felt a pang of pity for her.

His father was speaking.

"I am, of course, happy to honour my promise to your late father. I was saddened to hear of his death." He looked the young girl straight in the eye; "He was a great man. As skilled a knight as I could ever have asked for."

Standing abruptly he approached her, though she did not raise her eyes to meet his. Crouching before her, he spoke gently, resting a hand on her shoulder. "You are welcome here, Morgana. I hope that one day you will know this place as home."

Morgana nodded slowly, tears sparkling in her eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks. She offered him a watery smile.

Uther smiled and returned to his throne, cloak sweeping behind him.

"Do you have a maid?"

Morgana shook her head.

"I thought as much. I have arranged one for you. She is from the lower town but I hope that she will be of use. I fear that you will want for companionship in the castle; we have but few women, however she is roughly your age… perhaps a little younger…"

Morgana was silent.

"Well then. Arthur," continued Uther, receiving no encouragement from Morgana, "show Morgana where she will be staying."

Arthur, surprised to have been addressed, slid from his seat and made to exit. Morgana curtsied and followed, turning momentarily at the door to say a gracious "thank you" in a voice that tingled with a strange lilt.

The walk to Morgana's chamber was an awkward one. Having retrieved his sword from Genred as they passed, he led the way through the castle, pointing out all the areas of interest along the way: "that's where father killed an assassin with his bare hands; that's where the biggest spiders can be found; that's the really spooky corridor – I'm not afraid to go, but you should know." But she made no response. Eventually they fell into silence.

Arriving at what were to be Morgana's chambers, Arthur pushed the door open importantly, with only the smallest grunt at the door's weight.

"Here we are!" he declared triumphantly, "Do you like it? You should, it's nice here." He wandered through the room, touching and picking up various items and trinkets that lay about.

Morgana gracefully crossed the room, gently running her fingertips across the bed sheets, stopping to look out of the window.

Arthur sighed, tiring quickly of his silent guest.

"Right… so I've got to go and … train," he finished lamely, heading for the door. As he passed through the frame he ploughed into something soft and delicate, that gave a small squeak.

"Ow! Careful!"

Arthur turned to see a pair of dark eyes frowning at him. The small figure was chastised by an older maid.

"Apologies, Sire; it's her first time to Camelot." The maid apologised but Arthur was barely listening, looking straight back into those deep pools.

"She's to be the Lady Morgana's maid," the older woman continued, slightly nervous at his silence. "I will see to it that she learns better manners."

Arthur's head snapped up; he knew veiled threats when he heard them. "Do not trouble yourself," he replied in his most stately air. "It is of no importance. I should pay more attention to where I am going." He looked back to the brown eyes, now widened albeit cautious. "No need for any corrections, here."

He continued down the corridor and turned to see the young girl being hurried into Morgana's chamber. Girls, he thought after a moment; what strange creatures they are.

oOo

Morgana chose solitude for a time. She took a liking to the battlements, standing by the thick walls for hours at a time, looking far beyond Camelot's boarders. Her handmaid followed quietly behind.

One day, Morgana's eye was distracted as she gazed towards what was once her home. A small figure in red danced about below her, a make-shift sword sweeping back and forth as he battled another small figure, dressed in blue.

Morgana watched as the young prince bested his foe, pinning him to the ground as their peers cheered.

With a hint of a smile, Morgana walked back along the wall, her maid treading silently behind.

oOo

Arthur panted as he helped his friend to his feet. A small stream of blood trickled from the boy's forehead where one of Arthur's blows had landed true. Arthur felt an odd mixture of pride and remorse at the sight.

The strange feeling disarmed him and he sent his friends back to the castle. The forest was quiet in their wake. His breath sounded loud on the air and a sudden rage fell upon him; he grasped his stick once more and delivered blow after blow to nearby trees, his last strike shattering his stick against the trunk.

"Not bad." The voice came from behind it, the strange lilt lingering in the air.

He spun around; Morgana was leaning against the broad trunk of an oak. Her handmaid stood in the shadows.

"Your footwork's sloppy," Morgana added.

"What?" he demanded.

"Your footwork; it's sloppy," she repeated. "You're too easily knocked off balance."

"You're a girl. What do you know about footwork?" Arthur scoffed.

Morgana smiled serenely. "I know enough to beat you."

Arthur laughed, and stooping to grasp two new sticks from the ground, offered one to her with a confident: "Ladies first."

Morgana took the stick with a small smile and moved into the clearing the boys had been fighting in earlier.

Arthur circled her, carefully placing his feet as he'd been taught. She mirrored him, holding her sword at eye level.

He changed tack, changing direction smoothly; she followed without missing a beat.

Lunging, he delivered a blow, ducking beneath her parry to step once more beyond her reach. She appeared unfazed.

He lunged again; she met his blow with full force, swinging around again swiftly to deal blow after blow with such force Arthur felt his balance wobble as he parried. Refusing to show weakness, he laughed as they parted and circled once more.

"Not bad," he smiled, "for a girl."

Her eyes narrowed and this time she moved first. The swordplay was intense; the clang of wood on wood splintered the air, and Arthur felt his stick vibrate upon every impact. As their swords crossed perilously close to his cheek, he heard a gasp from the forest. His eyes flickered towards to sound to meet those dark eyes again, wide with fear. Arthur was suddenly overwhelmed by a desire to rush to her, reassure her that he was well. But she was just a maid, why should he do anything?

With a hollow thud and a sharp pain to the back of his knees, Arthur suddenly found himself looking at the sky, Morgana's laughter echoing all around.

Arthur blinked and looked back towards the trees, but she had retreated once more to the shadows. Arthur jumped to his feet.

"She distracted me!"

"You can't allow yourself to be distracted on the battlefield, Little Prince," taunted Morgana, a triumphant smile on her face.

"What? No, she-" Arthur spluttered, pointing towards his betrayer.

"No excuses, I'm afraid," Morgana crowed; "you lost to a girl!"

Arthur darkened. "I did not lose."

Morgana laughed again. "No, of course not. You just got knocked off your feet by a girl. I'm sure that's much better."

She laughed again, throwing her stick far into the forest. As she started walking back towards Camelot she called over her shoulder, "told you that you needed to work on your footwork. Come on, Gwen!"

The young girl stole from the shadows to follow her mistress. Arthur glowered at her as she passed. He poked her with his stick.

"You did that on purpose."

"No, Sire, I assure you I didn't." Her voice was soft but she kept her eyes on the ground.

Arthur glared at her and started back towards the castle, Morgana's taunts ringing in his ears.


	2. The World Spins Madly On

**Author's Note:**

**Thank you everyone who reviewed, I greatly appreciate them! I'm a bit slow on the writing front, but I blame it on being a newbie. Thanks for sticking with me!**

**This is my first attempt at a Merlin fic: I hope you like it! I'd love to hear any comments you might like to offer. **

**All characters belong to the BBC. No copyright infringement intended. **

**THE ONCE AND FUTURE KING **

Time passed.

Uther's wish was granted as Camelot became Morgana's home in her heart; she loved Arthur as a brother, and fought him as a sister should. As she blossomed she grew into her title, a Lady beloved by the people for her kindness and humility.

Arthur, too, began to win the respect of his people. He was, by all accounts, becoming a very fine young man, destined to be a great king. His skills on the field were matched by none his age, and, while still impressionable, his manner was pleasing.

The air was crisp as Arthur made his way towards Morgana's chambers. He rapped smartly on Morgana's door, but did not wait for an answer before turning the handle.

"Morgana, my father wants us to – oh!" He stopped in surprise for the lady before him was not, as he had expected, the Lady Morgana, but rather her maid.

"Milord." she curtsied. "I'm afraid Lady Morgana isn't here. She has gone to the gardens."

Arthur nodded, looking casually around Morgana's room, his tongue tying itself rather unhelpfully into knots as he tried to think of something to say. The young lady quietly continued arranging the sheets neatly on the bed.

"Right," he finally forced himself to say.

She looked up at him and smiled.

His stomach swooped and he was out the door before he had a chance to register his feet were moving. On the other side of the door he blinked, confused. As he strode away, his head held high, step determined, he pushed away the nagging feeling that he might have just run away from a girl…

oOo

While Arthur was earning the love of his people effortlessly, he strove for the acceptance of the one man he truly esteemed; his father. He trained day and night, attended the Council meetings and supported his king on every point. And yet, his father's gaze seemed to pass right over him, through all he had achieved, seeing nothing. Still he persevered, believing that, as king, his father must know best, until one day he found his heart pounding heavily in his chest as a Council meeting took an unusual turn.

A young man in chain mail stood before the throne, a red cloak around his shoulders. A girl stood beside him, dressed simply, her light hair flowing down her back, eyes pinned to the floor. Her hand was clasped tightly by the knight beside her, and for some reason, Arthur found it difficult to tear his eyes away from the simple symbol of their entwined fingers.

"No!" commanded Uther, his voice echoing dangerously around the great hall. "You are a Knight of Camelot; you are of noble blood, you will not sully the name of the Knights by marrying a commoner."

"Sire," the knight began boldly, "this is a matter of the heart, not of blood; may I not choose my own bride?"

Uther stepped closer menacingly. "When it comes to matters of the heart there is nothing more important than blood; the noble blood line must be preserved."

The knight faltered under his king's gaze.

Uther returned to his throne.

"May a free man not choose his own wife?" The knight's words came quickly and loudly, with no small trace of fear.

Uther's hard eyes narrowed. The tension in the hall was thick as the Court watched the events unfold.

"Continue on this course of action and I will see to it that you are stripped of your title and banished from Camelot. As for your temptress," Uther paused, sneering down at the pale young woman, "she will be given to Cenred. To do with her as he will."

Uther surveyed the shocked looks before him with grim pleasure. "Is that understood?"

The knight looked down at the young woman by his side for a moment. Slowly, he released his hand from hers. He turned to Uther and bowed low in silent submission.

Uther's response was cold. "Council dismissed."

Arthur's gaze wandered around the Court as figures began to move. His eyes met, for the briefest second, Morgana's handmaiden's. It lasted only a second, but that brief connection with those dark, handsome eyes left Arthur's breath a little short, and he discovered his hands gripped the arms of his chair with no little strength. He let out his breath in a huff as he relaxed his fingers.

"I know," his father raged, misinterpreting Arthur's exhale; "that he could even think of forming a union with a commoner, utterly absurd!"

"Is it?" The words were out of Arthur's mouth before he could stop them. Uther stared at him as though he were mad.

"Of course it is!" He approached Arthur, a finger pointed in his face. "There is a reason for the separation; if commoners truly thought they could marry and enter Camelot on an equal level, havoc would arise! As future king you would be mobbed on the street; loose women looking for an easy way into a better life, unruly men looking to bring down and ruin our women." Uther drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "We are better off leaving them to marry amongst themselves. At least we know when we choose within our own rank that there is no foul intent."

Arthur was silent. Uther clapped a hand on his son's shoulder. "Keep your distance, Arthur. You cannot rule friends."

Arthur watched his father leave, his heart pounding heavily in his chest, though he was unsure why.

oOo

I'd appreciate your opinios!


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